I'm not very good at poetry,
or expressing myself.
I don't always say the right thing,
or anything at all.
Not everybody likes me,
or thinks about me.
My name isn't known by the world,
or reblogged all the time.
I'm not really the best at everything,
or anything really.

But, I'm me.
And to some people that's not good enough.
But, To me,
Its all I really have.

All I really have is myself.
I may not be famous.
I may not be rich.
I may not be a supermodel.
But I'm me.
And that's all I need.

When I told you
"i don't want to talk to anyone"
you didn't hear me whisper
"except you."
so you walked away
never knowing.

it was too hard to constantly be around
some who
i loved
but didn't love me
or at least
"not in the same way"

they called him a ******
and spit in his face
because he was never good enough
he was always
too weak
or
too powerful
no matter what he did
they all turned their backs
and laughed
he could never fit in
he was an outcast
because of his
past
no one could move past the fact
that he had
changed
he would forever be labeled
as
broken
crazy
different
a killer
so as he turned
and started to walk away
he didn't understand why
they wanted so badly for him
to understand just how much
they hated him
because what they didn't know
what he hated
himself
**so much more

Let him in
Want him out
Don't know the words to say
All alone
Not by myself
The darkness came to play.
Hear my cry
On deaf ears fall
The pain is here to stay.

I see a siren,
Sitting upon a high throne,
The boys worship her,
Unaware of their missing thoughts,
Unaware of their blind love.
They call her a mermaid, a god even,
But I know better,
Because I watch from afar,
I can't hear the beautiful deception.

"One good thing about music, when it hits you,
you feel no pain," Said Bob Marley once.

We are a society of addicts, not in the literal sense,
but in the sense that music is controlling our lives.

We tell ourselves that we are okay, We're fine
But we can't go a day without our headphone.

It's like music has inter weaved it's fingers into our brains,
As if letting go of it, would **** us right along with it.

Music is great for making us believe in things that aren't real.
It reaches into our minds and whispers to us.

Music, to me, is manipulative, it changes us,
It shows us how our lives could be.

Now, I'm not saying that I hate music,
That's not my point at all.

I'm just saying that maybe, just maybe,
Music isn't the answer for everything.

And, I know I will probably get hate for this,
But that alright.

Because, I understand what it does,
I understand the influence it has.

And, I'm not asking anybody to give it up,
Because that's not fair.

I'm just asking that sometimes,
Take the headphones off.

And Listen,
Listen to everything around you.

Instead of focusing on the music in your ears,
Listen for the music all around you.

Because that, to me, is the true music,
The music so pure, and so true.

The music of nature, the music of people,
Everything around you that makes a sound.

Listen to that and the maybe, just maybe,
You'll understand.

But, until then, just keep going,
Keep listening to what makes you happy.

Because if that what you need to make it through the day,
Then it was worth it.

Because really,
Who am I to tell you not to.

to all the girls he was
"hot"
but really all he ever wanted to be was
"smart"
he never took his shirt off because
he was scared that they would
instantly
label him as just another piece of
good-looking meat
but he wanted to be more then that
he wanted to be  known for
his smile
not
his abs
he wanted someone to say
"he's an amazing writer"
not
"he's pretty ****"
but in this society
thinking like that gets you nowhere
it leaves you alone and beaten
so he hid
he covered his insecurity of his skin
and pushed past it
because he was strong
even though every part of him felt
weak
he was determined to be
strong
he would prove to the world that
a man can be
both
strong and smart
both
****  and artsy
because he wanted people to love him
for more then just
his skin
because he knew deep down
we are all so much more
*then that

funny how a childhood game can be so insiteful,
so full of irony and shadows,
teaching a young version of us,
words borne from ignorance lead to gallows,
but many didnt listen,
many couldnt see,
that what's just a game to them,
is reality to me.

If only I could let you go,
Then maybe I could see.
Why I ever thought,
That you could mean so much to me.

You never even glanced my way,
But still, you stole my heart.
I know that we can never be,
But I still don't want to part.

I think of you each night and day,
Though I know you think of her.
And even though I get that,
It never fails to hurt.

But, now I must make it stop,
For you will never know.
How much I really loved you,
For today, I let you go.

“If a tree falls in a forest and no one is around to hear it,
does it make a sound?” George Berkeley once asked.
Making me wonder,
"If I'm gone, but no one's around to remember me,
was I really ever here?"

words fall out of my mind like a little kid who tripped on a step
it starts fun and happy, then suddenly I realize everything is all wrong
but I can't stop it because my arms are to small and everything moves to fast
and
suddenly I'm
falling
But the difference in this story is that for *me
no ones waiting at the bottom
Just me
*and my hidden bruises

bing
someone you barely know alerting you that you're still not good enough
ring
a person you care about calling just to see if they can use you for they're own selfish purpose
ting
a bell screaming that you're late to a class that "blesses you with worthless education and stress
bing
an oven crying out to let you know that some food that you dont want is ready to eat
ding
showing up to a party where all anyone really cares about it whether your high or in bed
sing
another song playing some meaningless lyrics about something you have no interest in
slam
another door closing let everyone know just how much of a freak you really are
drip
blood running off of a soul that is shocked that they're anything still left inside
shuuush
water running to wash off the evidence of a broken heart dripping with liquid pain


silence
**lying on a bed alone waiting for the cycle of emptiness to repeat itself when the dawn comes

mind drifting
pain lifting
to a place of perfection
no more chaos
no more lay-off
just me and my affection
thoughts away
time to stay
in a world of no detection
but dawn awaits
all my fates
are here from resurrection
the light shines true
i always knew
there'd be a recollection

you won't be alone
in your darkest hour because
you will
always
have me.

****.
How can I explain.
****.
I I sound insane.
Shush.
I know someone can hear me.
Umm.
They surely see this insecurity.
Welp.
I'm sorry I freaked out there.
Sigh.
I just keep trying not to care.

Today was a good day.
I'm slowly felling better.
I am as Spring is.

Slowly, the sun shines longer,
the flowers feel safer,
and the warm feels
nice enough to stay.

And, yes, some days it may rain
Just remember, The sun
will always shine again.

our hearts are so close
and our  hands are so near
but his intentions
are, oh, so unclear

i can't tell if his eyes
are searching mine
or if
its only benign

it continual torment
because i can't let go
why can't I just ask?
well, because he might say no.

In the secret place lost and so high
is where I abide,
to clear my eyes
more and more I long
to be by your side
it's where I hide.
in your arms, i cried

I desire you,
with all I do
my thoughts stay on you
I give my heart to you
forever

when looking to help,
don't give a man a life jacket
when he's dying
of thirst
because kindness born from ignorance
can be
just as cruel
as hatred born from pain.

if love is blind,
i guess i'm deaf.
*** all i can see,
is you.

B* ringer
O of
M***
Berevement

Grief
Unleashing  
­Nightmares

Terrifying
Endings
Riddled with
Restless
Obsequies
R**epeating

push me until i fall,
in love,
with the cliff

.          Pretty girl
.          R ed dress
Want tO dance
.   Oh My god, Hell yes.

how
can
i
run
from
the
monsters
in
my
head?

strawberry smoke drifts in the lungs
of a boy
thinking about the selfish brunette
that tore him apart

recycled air drifts out of the lungs
of a girl
trying desperately to make him forget
the girl who broke his heart

people cry when a lion is shot in another country
but no one cares about
the 17,500 people trafficked into the U.S. each year.
we care more about Miley's latest hair choice,
than the thousand of homeless teens.
nobody wants to put in into perspective,
or think about it.
because maybe if we ignore it long enough,
it will go away,
as if sitting and watching Netflix,
will somehow provide starving families with food.
but, we don't talk about that,
because it's not "socially accepted".
if you care about anyone but yourself,
you're not normal,
how is it that Justin Beiber gets more airtime,
than the people trying to change the world.
everyone talks about how terrible the world is,
but so few are willing to do something about it.
oh well, i guess,
go back to youre blissful ignorance,
who am i anyway,
to make you ponder such things.

Holding him, his sobs echoing into my chest,
My tears paused for a moment to rest
Salt and water showed so much love
Something I didn't know he was capable of.
Such a small time frame and it all changed
So real and warm and unexpectedly strange
I'd never seen a man burst into tears
Releasing all of his emotions and fears
Pulled back his face, blaringly red
And I will never ever forget what he said
"I'm sorry", and with that I just tore
I knew I had made his heart heavy and sore
"Baby, no it'll all be okay"
All that I could manage to say
Wiped off his cheeks but the pain still came
His face was dry but his eyes not the same
Pulled him close and held him tight
All of my emotions tried not to fight
But in the moment all I could feel
Was his pain, so open and loud and real.

i breathed him only once,
but that was enough,
to become addicted

society: be different!
me: okay! walks outside
society: whispers freak

.. we looked away when tragedy struck
                          would it make us better people..?
                                                      o­r would it just show..
                                                          ­               ..who we really are
                                                           ­                                             *inside..?

They say you will walk past at least 10 murderers in your lifetime, or so I’ve heard.  What about loving one? Are there even statistics for falling for a murderer? I guess people don’t really calculate the odds of it, because, well, that’s just dark. What does that say about me then?

            My mom told me once after the topic of love was brought up, “Love kills so be careful.” It’s ironic how spot on she was. Though I have never been comfortable with the word love, for it’s a word too flimsy nowadays, thrown around like a beat-up Frisbee that is too soon discarded. In this case, though, I guess I can say love, because no one would voluntarily like a murderer. Only something as potent as love could hit you so hard to want to be close to such an awful person.

             To be fair, James didn’t intend to ****, at least I would hope so.

            “It just happened, I didn’t mean to”, he sobbed.

            The tears on his face truly did convince me, enough not to say anything, at least. The blood on his shirt should’ve scared me,  but instead his distraught face captivated me. In the moment, all I felt was calm.
          “James” His names came quickly to my mind, oh how I loved the way it rolled off my tongue, the name of a murderer.

          “I’m sorry.” A look of shock was plastered on his face, trying to make eye contact with me, he seemed too preoccupied with the blood on his hands (I guess you can take that in more ways than one)

        “Go home, take a shower, It’s gonna be fine.” He was always a blunt person, never one to use soft words. Something I always admired about him, his ability to not care how people responded to him. I leaned more to just say what people want to hear. We were a good fit that way.
          “Okay, okay. Go home, take a shower, it’s gonna be fine.”
           What a cute smile.
             Now most would be concerned if a murderer smiled at you, but I was smitten with the two dimples that appeared. It was almost as if nothing had even happened.  
             When he left, my thoughts wandered back to when I had first met him. As a senior in high school, life had been hectic, but meeting James at my first real job seemed like the best thing that could’ve happened. Like most high school romances, it started with awkward glances and short text messages.
           Hey.
             Heart pounding, and waiting for a response.
             typing…
             Oh, no. He probably hates me.
             Hey you.
              Dead, I’m dead. He’s just the cutest.
              typing…
              Oh no, that was probably meant for someone else. He’s  probably gonna tell me that I need to stop texting him and that no one likes me.
              Wanna hang out on Saturday?
               What? This Saturday? We’re officially married now.  Wait, what do I say? I’m probably gonna sound like the biggest loser ever.
               Sure!
              Wow, sure with an exclamation mark, I am the worst.
              Great!
Officially dead, he’s the best.  Great with an exclamation point! We are legit married now. I wonder how he is going to propose.
             That Saturday had gone well, and I was convinced that I was deep in like with him. As it came to be, a year later and here I am saying that I love him. You could say that it went pretty well. He came to my graduation and I to his. He proudly showed me off to his friends, boasting that I was the smarter than any of them, and then we went to his house and watched Star Wars.  
              A smile on my face and our fingers interlocked, he looked at me at my graduation and whispered into my ear, “You were the prettiest up on the stage.” His face was so genuine and sincere; my heart could barely contain itself.
           When  I went to visit my grandma for a month, he sent me a letter proclaiming his love. In a time of texts and emails, it was such a cute surprise. There was nothing sappy written, for we weren’t that type of couple, the kind that is just romantic ***** and such,  but at the end he wrote,
             Love, James
          ,and it made me smile so much. It was such a small gesture but yet meant so much to me.
            Now can you see why I forgive him so easily? There were no signs, nothing to indicate that he would snap.
       The morning after James killed, I lay quietly. A man came to visit me.
        “James didn’t mean to, I promise. He told me, I know it’s true. Please don’t be upset with him.” But the man didn’t want to hear it.
“How could anyone be so careless? How could this happen. She was so young and so beautiful, why would anyone do this?” He didn’t want to believe me, but I knew that James hadn’t meant it. I knew that in his heart he was truly sorry.
            I didn’t see James again until the end of the week. In a room full of people, he pushed his way up to the front to see me. His face was pale and tears ran down. I wanted so badly to reach up and brush away his pain.
          He leaned down and whispered “I’m sorry, I’m so so sorry. I didn’t  mean to.” His eyes glanced down to my neck. They had put makeup to cover the bruises from his hands and the **** on my temple from hitting my head on a railing.
           “It’s okay, I still love you” my words never made it, trying to comfort him, but soon he was gone and I was left alone again. I could see my mom crying again.
           She had warned me, “Love kills.” But I didn’t take it as a warning, more as a promise. They say you pass 10 murderers in your lifetime, but I feel in love with one and I never did make it past him.

Poetry doesn't HAVE to be sad; just filled with EMOTION.